A Visit To My Brain

blows dust away

larah33 — Sun, 15 Dec 2013 21:48:53 GMT

I'm going to be posting here again in the new year. I've got to get back into the routine of writing. If nothing else, I need a place to vent my frustrations of ringing in yet another year as an unemployed person. So there may be much angst. Or there may be random non sequiturs that I slip in under the wire because I got ~~lazy~~ caught up in a book.

So ... stay tuned?

facepalm

larah33 — Thu, 06 Jun 2013 02:37:33 GMT

Last night I watched Hysteria and really enjoyed it. Tonight I watched The Extra Man and was really disappointed. I think the Brits make better "small" movies in general (not the big US blockbusters), but every once in a while I'm shocked by just how much better.

*

In other news, kittens apparently really like lactose free ice cream. Or at least the one we're looking after does. It's cute.

Not fair

larah33 — Mon, 03 Jun 2013 03:35:02 GMT

Rob always wins "Yo Momma" competitions. Always. :-(

The Name Game

larah33 — Fri, 15 Feb 2013 01:23:11 GMT

View Poll: The Name Game

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

larah33 — Thu, 29 Dec 2011 18:25:19 GMT

Word Count: 1700
Rating: Mature (some violence)
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.
Author's Notes: Spoilers through episode 7. No beta reader has looked at this. Any mistakes are because I just never learn.

"I just love how all the Christmas lights make everything so festive. Don’t you? Everything seems so bright and sparkly; so pretty, like jewelry."

David Nolan walked down the street with his wife, letting her chatter wash over him and around him. He nodded in all the right places, and made agreeable, non-committal sounds at the back of his throat. But his mind was elsewhere.

He thought back over the two weeks since his memories had returned, since he had chosen to try to make their marriage work. And he had meant it. After spotting the old windmill in Mr. Gold’s antique store, he had remembered everything from before the accident put him in the coma.

Specifically, he had remembered sitting in the motel room that he’d been living in for a week, deciding that the time he and Kathryn had invested in their marriage was worth fighting for. He had remembered leaving the motel to walk back to their home to share his decision with her, and the sound of a car horn before immense pain wiped out all other thought. And even though it had felt like he and Mary Margaret had developed an almost magical connection in a very short time, he knew the honorable thing to do was to return to Kathryn and the life they had together.

As he crossed the intersection, he glanced down the cross street. Mary Margaret was standing on the sidewalk, a few doors down, looking into a shop window. David’s pulse raced. It was as though thinking about her had caused her to appear. He stopped in the middle of the road and stared. He was only mildly aware that Kathryn was still walking and talking.

"I was thinking we could have a big party this year, to let everyone know that we’re back together. I’d have to get it catered, of course. I couldn’t possibly handle all the decorating and cooking. I know, I know ... it’s a big expense, but I think it’s important to let all our friends see how much happier I - I mean, we are."

David admired the way the light from the street lamps shone down on Mary Margaret’s cap of dark hair. He suddenly remembered how - the one time he’d managed to get close enough - he’d caught a whiff of fragrance from that raven hair. She had smelled like newly fallen snow, and he had wanted to kiss her ruby red lips. A movement at her side pulled his gaze to a new figure; Dr. Whale had joined Mary Margaret and she turned to speak with him.

"David? David are you even listening?"

Kathryn had obviously noticed that he wasn’t paying attention, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the pair down the street. When he felt a weight on his arm, he knew Kathryn had returned to his side and placed a hand on his arm, but he really didn’t care. He strained to hear what was being said by Mary Margaret and the doctor even though he was much too far away. As the other man pulled her into an embrace, David moved towards them.

"David? What are you doing? Where are you going? David? David!"

Putting some distance between himself and Kathryn cut down on the shrillness in her voice. He spared a small moment to be grateful. He walked faster, wanting to - no, needing to - rescue Mary Margaret from the unwanted advances of the other man. Without missing a beat, David reached out, pulled the doctor away from Mary Margaret, and punched him in the nose. He was mildly satisfied when his former physician dropped like a stone.

"David!" Mary Margaret crouched beside the doctor. "What’s gotten into you?"

"I was … I thought he was attacking you." Even to his own ears the excuse sounded rather lame. "Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?"

"I’m fine, no he didn’t, and he wasn’t." Mary Margaret looked up at him as she helped Whale to his feet. "Honestly, we were just saying goodbye."

"Why?"

"Because that’s what you do when you’re ending a date." Whale spoke from behind his hand, which was holding his nostrils pinched closed.

"It wasn’t a date," Mary Margaret said.

"You’re dating him now?" David asked.

"It wasn’t a date -" Mary Margaret repeated at the same time Whale said, "Yes."

"How long has this been going on?"

"Not that it’s any of your business," she glared at him. When the doctor added, "Two weeks." David was pleased to note she glared at him, too.

"What is this?" Kathryn had finally joined them.

"You can’t date him," said David.

"I’ll date whomever I want," Mary Margaret responded.

"It’s not right."

"Says who?"

"Says me!"

"And that means something, why?" The pain in her voice cut right through him.

David opened his mouth to answer but nothing came out. She was right; he’d made his choice. But looking at Mary Margaret, the flush of righteous indignation staining her snow white cheeks, lamplight glinting off her ebony hair, and her blood red lips pulled down in a frown … he knew he’d made the wrong choice. He wasn’t going to let her go a second time. He reached out and grabbed her hand just as Kathryn grabbed his other arm and began pulling him away.

"David, you’re embarrassing me!" Kathryn’s voice had gone shrill again.

"Get your hands off her, you brute!" Doctor Whale grabbed ahold of Mary Margaret at the same time.

David looked in Mary Margaret’s eyes, worried that she would pull away. Instead, she gripped his hand tightly, which gave him the strength to pull them together. Ignoring Kathryn’s protests and Whale’s threats to call the sheriff’s office, David wrapped his arms around Mary Margaret.

"I’ve been an idiot."

"Yes."

"I should have picked you."

"Yes."

"Can I kiss you now?"

"Oh, yes."

When their lips met an electrical current shot through him. He revelled in the feel of her body against his and how right it felt to finally be kissing her after so many aborted attempts. And then more memories cascaded down on him, flashing almost faster than he could comprehend.

A flash of him and Mary Margaret, dressed oddly, walking through a forest. A flash of him leaning over a glass coffin, kissing Mary Margaret and waking her from a deep sleep. A flash of an elaborate wedding, Mary Margaret wearing a beautiful white gown, her long jet black hair styled intricately and framing her face as they pledged their love. A flash of Mary Margaret, heavy with child, sitting by a roaring fire as he spoke to her belly; her hand running through his hair as she laughed. A flash of running from her side, a newborn cradled in his arms, to a wooden armoire. A flash of lying, fatally wounded, in Mary Margaret’s arms.

Startled, he pulled back from the kiss, gasping for air. He looked into Mary Margaret’s eyes and saw that she was struggling as well.

"Did you see …" he asked.

"Yes," she laughed.

"David, what is going on?" Kathryn’s voice had turned into a whine. She pulled at him again, but he couldn’t take his eyes of Mary Margaret.

"I remember," he said.

"Yes, you remembered that we’re married."

"No, I remembered."

"I’m going to call the Sheriff," Doctor Whale piped in, "Not only have you assaulted me, but also my date!"

"It wasn’t a date," Mary Margaret sighed. She looked up at him with a big smile. "You came back for me."

"I did promise," David returned her smile.

"David, I insist we go home now. I’m not feeling well," Kathryn wheedled.

"No."

"No?"

"No." He finally turned to face his wife. But his hand maintained a firm grip on Mary Margaret’s hand. He’d been separated from her once; never again.

"Kathryn, I don’t love you. I’m not supposed to be with you. I was never supposed to be with you."

"What are you saying?" He watched as tears welled up in her ice blue eyes, but he didn’t feel any sympathy. He knew it was just a ploy to make him do what she wanted. She’d been using that trick their entire sham of a marriage.

"I remember Mary Margaret. I remember loving her. I still love her."

"You do?" Mary Margaret said, pulling his attention back to her.

He pulled her closer, tucking her hand under his arm. "I do."

"But what about our date?" Whale interjected.

As one, David and Mary Margaret responded. "It wasn’t a date."

"You’ll hear from my lawyer," Kathryn said before storming off.

"And mine," Whale hurried off in the opposite direction.

As soon as both parties were gone, they dropped from David’s thoughts.

"I’m so very sorry," he said.

"You’re forgiven," Mary Margaret’s smile warmed him.

"But I forgot everything. I forgot you." Although it pained him to admit it, he had to be completely honest. She had always deserved his total honesty.

"Are you saying I was forgettable?" The humour in her eyes let him know she was only teasing. "Charming."

"My name isn’t Charming," he leaned his forehead to rest against hers.

"No, James, it isn’t." Mary Margaret - no, Snow - rose on tip toes to kiss him quickly. "So, what do we do now?"

"I don’t even know where to begin … what happened?"

"The curse must have been broken when we kissed."

"Like this?" he gave her a thorough example.

"Mmhmm. Just like that," she smiled again.

"But Kathryn and Whale don’t seem any different." David - now James - said.

"Well, I’m not kissing either of them," Snow declared, a flicker of revulsion flitting over her face at the thought.

He laughed and kissed the tip of her nose. "I don’t blame you. So, who can we ask for help?"

After pausing to consider the matter, Snow’s face lit with an idea. "Henry! Henry knows about the curse. Maybe we can find something in his book."

"Then let’s go find Henry," David/James said. And arm and arm, Snow White and Prince Charming headed off into the night.

It's the little things ...

larah33 — Fri, 16 Dec 2011 03:25:05 GMT

... that make everything worthwhile. Many thanks to wood_dragon for my virtual gift. ^_^

Writer's Block: Eraser dust

larah33 — Thu, 15 Sep 2011 12:35:09 GMT

I think my wifey would agree with me that bugs have to go. Not ladybugs, or butterflies, or caterpillars. But everything else.

Why? 'Cause they're freaky creepy crawly gross. Eww. *shudders*

Writer's Block: Heroes and villains

larah33 — Sat, 15 Jan 2011 01:06:51 GMT

(All right, it was probably Wonder Woman, but Grover popped into my head first when I read the question. 'Cause he's cute, too! ^_^)

Writer's Block: Everyday I write the book

larah33 — Fri, 14 Jan 2011 04:49:32 GMT

The title would be, "I Will Survive". And when you opened the front cover, you'd hear the song play, like one of those Hallmark cards that plays music when you open it. I don't know if it would be the Gloria Gaynor version, or the Cake version, though.

In Memoriam - John Spencer 1946-2005

larah33 — Fri, 17 Dec 2010 04:04:33 GMT

When you see this, quote Leo McGarry. I've chosen to go back to the beginning because I'm currently watching S5 and wondering who the fuck all these people are. They look like the characters I love, but they're not acting that way.

Leo: [on the phone with the New York Times] 17 across. Yes, 17 across is wrong... You're spelling his name wrong... What's my name? My name doesn't matter. I am just an ordinary citizen who relies on the Times crossword for stimulation. And I'm telling you that I met the man twice. And I recommended a pre-emptive Exocet missile strike against his air force, so I think I know how...

C.J.: Leo.

Leo: They hang up on me every time.

C.J: That's almost hard to believe.

Meme-age!

larah33 — Fri, 05 Nov 2010 03:21:03 GMT

Donna Noble
Take Which Doctor Who companion are you? (girls) today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Personality Test Generator.</p>

You're Donna Noble!

Oi! Wotch it, Martian boy! The Doctor thinks he can spout all kinds of ridiculous technobabble and 'Last Time Lord Angst' at you just because he's from outer space, huh? Well, you're not having any of it! You've got a heart of gold and a will of iron, and you're a rather boggling combination of a romantic idealist and a staunch realist. But you never let logical paradoxes get to you; you prefer to shoehorn the universe into a little box of your own perception. More often than not, it fits... probably because the universe is too intimidated to argue!

Update ... sorta

larah33 — Sun, 27 Jun 2010 14:01:19 GMT

I want to post an update, really I do. But so much has happened to people around me that my little life pales in comparison. So I think, "I'll spend a day or two coming up with something really profound and worth posting," and then days go by and I still haven't written anything. And bullet points of what's been happening with me in reaction to events feels like it would be doing a disservice to those things, but if I don't post something cricketkate will worry.

So, here is my post. I'm alive, and I'm commenting where applicable. Otherwise ... *sits in the corner quietly*

PSA: Pimpin' for charity

larah33 — Sun, 06 Jun 2010 02:25:31 GMT

My lovely friends, thesandtiger and ksumnersmith are participating in City Chase again this year. And, if they manage to raise $2,500 by June 15th for Right to Play, they will rappel down the side of Toronto City Hall. So, if you want to help a worthy cause, or want to live vicariously through them because doing something like that terrifies you, visit their Fundraising Page and donate today! Thank you. ^_^

19 Years Ago

larah33 — Thu, 20 May 2010 13:59:00 GMT

In a hospital not too far away, I gave birth to a 7lb 9oz bundle of love. I knew having a child would change my life, after all I'd seen those After School Specials. But what I didn't know was just how much my life would change.

He gives me confidence - I will stick up for him when I wouldn't for myself.
He supports me - In his eyes I can achieve anything I set my mind to.
He loves me unconditionally - If I feel bad about making a mistake, he's always first to say it's okay.
He's my friend - He'd totally help me hide the bodies.

Of course, sometimes he can be a little shit, but he's only human. ^_^

Today, in the eyes of the Canadian government, Robert Alexander is considered an adult. Today I'm probably going to cry, because he's already acted like an adult in my eyes for a long time. (And better than many "real" adults I've known.)

Happiest of birthdays to the Best. Son. Ever. *massive amounts of self-cleaning confetti*

Boredom, I has it

larah33 — Mon, 29 Mar 2010 00:11:41 GMT

Get Your Cyborg Name

For the ladies

larah33 — Fri, 12 Mar 2010 16:39:36 GMT

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LwtoQjNRHg4&feature=player_embedded

HELP?!

larah33 — Sat, 06 Mar 2010 15:28:05 GMT

Desperately seeking a beta reader for my hetfic story, due today. Firefly 'verse, PG-13 for language, roughly 1,000 words.

Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease

Awwwww

larah33 — Sun, 14 Feb 2010 06:08:50 GMT

Thanks go out to my half a mom (wood_dragon) and my wifey (randombtchchick) for the virtual presents. They make me smile and feel loved. *hugs*

Because some of my friends have been having a rough time of it lately

larah33 — Thu, 28 Jan 2010 04:14:57 GMT

Best song cover. Ever.

larah33 — Mon, 11 Jan 2010 03:29:58 GMT

In memory of family and friends who have lost the battle with cancer; and in support of the ones who continue to conquer it! Post this on your LJ if you know someone who has or had cancer.

fandom_stocking

larah33 — Fri, 04 Dec 2009 10:31:42 GMT

If anyone is looking for my fandom stocking, it can be found here. I'll probably scroll through the community this weekend and make a list so I can check it twice. ;-)

Writer's Block: Sense and sensibility

larah33 — Thu, 03 Dec 2009 10:57:57 GMT

Just off the top of my head: Touch. Yes I would miss tasting fruit and really good food, but that would happen if anything happened to my sense of smell. Which, while nice, has always been really strong and I've ended up with lots of smell induced headaches. Sight and hearing are also nice, but easily compensated for.

Nothing would make up for the loss of being able to feel Rob giving me a hug at the end of a particularly hard day. Or the happiness of my cat giving me a headbutt of love. Or the joy one gets from doggy kisses.

So, yeah. Definitely want to keep Touch.

Well

larah33 — Wed, 18 Nov 2009 20:13:40 GMT

Some people just make holiday shopping/surprises so difficult.

I'm just sayin'.

*put upon sigh*

Knitting Fail

larah33 — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 15:21:22 GMT

I can't figure out how to decrease "1 stitch at the beginning and end" of the row when working in seed/moss stitch.

If I p2tog, do I purl the next stitch?
Should I slip the purl, knit the next stich, then pass the purl stitch over?
The last two stitches are k, p. Should I k2tog? Won't this bugger the pattern up?

WHAT THE FRAK PEOPLE?!?!?!

(For those who care: I'm knitting the Emma Peel dress from Mason-Dixon Knitting Outside the Lines. I have 75 stitches, so each row is p1, *k1, p1; repeat from * to end of row.)

This is why I like knitting scarves, and why I dislike trying new patterns. *cries*

Remembrance/Veteran's Day

larah33 — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 12:31:44 GMT

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

— Lt.-Col. John McCrae (1872 - 1918)